


Eight Encounters

by annagarny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annagarny/pseuds/annagarny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A midnight eight-song drabble collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Encounters

Eight song challenge

*SO MANY OF THESE ARE FIVE SONGS. So I'm dong eight. So there.*

Hit shuffle, bitch. And be brutal - don't just pick a 'longish' playlist of 'good' songs, go for broke, let the whole freaking library have it.

So here we go.

Pick your universe: Marvel Movieverse.  
Pick your pairing/s: Whichever ones seem the most appropriate.

GO, BITCH, GO!

Song #1 - The Lover After Me (Savage Garden)

Clint stares at the crack in the sidewalk and curses his vision, the perfect vision that allowed him to see the flicker of movement and track it, even as he tried not to. 

He'd promised himself that he wouldn't think of Phil today, wouldn't do the thing that was tearing into his chest like claws.

Seven months, and counting, the city still called Phil's name at every corner and Clint couldn't move on. 

The flicker shifted again and it was all Clint could do to not shout Phil Coulson's name at the top of his lungs, but he bit his tongue, hard enough to bleed, and a deep sense of shame dropped into his gut. 

Surely the rest of them had to have noticed, without Phil, Clint could barely function. He was consistently twenty minutes late to every single meeting ever called, avoiding Phil's level gaze as he sidled in through the least obtrusive door and sat as far from Phil as he could.

He looked up at the balcony again and sighed, deep and bracing, as Phil closed the door, stepping away from the open space, his hand on the shoulder of a man who wasn't Clint.

The archers' shoulders slumped and he sat down on the stoop of the brownstone, burying his head in his hands.

"I love you, Phil. Why the hell couldn't I say that when it mattered?"

 

Song # 2 - Lay Down Your Guns (Jimmy Barnes)

The first time Phil met Clint, he was actually on the wrong end of one of Clint's drawn bows. Of course, the second he realised that there was a weapon aimed at his chest, he'd drawn his own sidearm and leveled it at the sniper, 

Since then their relationship ha swung wildly between intense white-hot rage and drawn weapons, blood and shouting that had broken four of Clint's bows and intense white-hot sex, blood and shouting that had destroyed seven of Phil's Dolce suits. 

It was a tempestuous relationship, to say the least. Not only because they were two very different, independent men, but because their constant battle for dominance was so well-mached that the likelihood of a victor emerging was, without a fatality, very slim.

They both liked it that way.

 

Song # 3 - Sweet Disposition (The Temper Trap)

Tony arched his back, slowly breathing out, as Steve's hand slid up his side, fingertips digging in at Tony's lowest ribs, dragging him back down from where he'd sat up.

They were fully clothed, sprawled on the floor of the den in the Malibu house, having been in California for a meeting that Tony was entirely certain could have been conducted anywhere else in the world, but afterwards they had discovered that they had four entire hours free as the wind, and so had caught Steve by one wrist of his black Henley and dragged him to the Audi, taking him along the Pacific Coast Highway at speeds that were likely to get him yet another fine, and shown Steve the house.

Steve had, of course, pretended to be impressed with all the technology, for a few seconds, but his mouth had genuinely fallen open at the sight of the cars.

Making out on the floor of the den was just gravy, Tony decided, after the look Steve had given him when he'd spotted the 1932 Flathead in the workshop, and Tony had told him that yes, they could take that for the drive back.

 

Song # 4 - Here With Me (Dido)

Phil sat up, confused. Why was he alone in the bed, he wondered idly, until his hand slid across the sheets and he remembered that the spot usually occupied by his lover was long cold and the pieces clicked into place with the weight of a firing pin.

Seven nights ago, Clint had vanished in the middle of the night and nobody at SHIELD, nobody in the press, hell, not even Heimdall, when asked, had seen him since.

Phil's sleeping pattern, usually fucked-up beyond recognition thanks to the demands of his job, had devolved into fitful stints of between nine and fourteen minutes of unconsciousness before he was jerked awake by the lack of steady breathing next to him. He'd spent the first seventy two hours after Barton had vanished shouting, eventually losing his voice, devoting every resource at his disposal to finding their (his) sniper.

He couldn't sleep. He coud barely breathe, without knowing what the hell had happened.

Eight days was far too long to not sleep, but Phil's body wouldn't let him rest, not until they found him.

 

Song # 5 - Last Kiss (Taylor Swift)

It was bittersweet, Clint thought, that their first kiss had been such a brutal moment of passion, something that had been building for months on end, and in the end it had been not after a mission but in the very fucking middle of one, that Phil had caught him by the back of the neck and pressed their mouths together, desperate and wanting.

Their last one had been at almost two in the morning, and it had been Phil ending things, telling Clint that it was hurting too much, not knowing where he stood, not able to break through Clint's hard shell or talk to him about anything but work.

Clint found himself, a few minutes after Phil had kissed him softly and said 'I love you, but it's killing me to be in love with you. Goodbye, Clint.', sitting on the floor of what had once been their bedroom, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted something black sticking out from under the white pillow on Phil's side of the bed.

One of his ancient t-shirts, closer to grey than black, the one that Phil had worn to bed the night before, folded neatly and slid beneath the pillow for tonight. He reached up and caught it, dragging it off the bed and burying his face in the familiar, soft cotton.

Without realising what he was doing, Clint tugged his own shirt off and slid his arms into Phil's, taking a deep breath of that smell, lime and musk and Phil all over, then dropped back to the floor, hugging his knees, burying his head and clenching his jaw in a futile effort to stop the tears sliding down his face.

 

Song # 6 - Domino (Jessie J)

Phil wasn't much of a dancer, so when Clint insisted on dragging him to some club just outside Times Square, he went so reluctantly as to almost having to be physically carried. 

Thor had, in fact, offered to do just that.

It was supposed to be 'team building' but Coulson wasn't entirely sure he counted as part of the team. When he said as much, Tony just muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'You're screwing one of us, you're one of us.' before Steve clapped a hand over his mouth and shoved Tony though the door of the VIP area, rolling his eyes semi-apologetically at Phil before turning his attention back to the self-proclaimed genius-billionaire-playoboy-philanthropist who was now ogling everything within groping distance and demanding cocktails.

Phil's jaw dropped when he spotted Clint, though, his legendary self-control slipping for the barest moment before he composed himself. 

Who'd have thought that a pair of well-fitted jeans and a skin-tight dark purple v-neck shirt would evoke such a reaction from the man known for showing *nothing* on his face.

The fact that the VIP area was on the rooftop definitely helped. There was minimal lighting, most of the ambience was provided by the surrounding buildings and the almost-full moon overhead. And then there was the way that Clint moved, the second he saw Phil, his eyelids dropping to half-mast as he stepped away from the bar, strutting over to his boyfriend with such a sense of ownership that Phil was surprised he didn't wake up with 'PROPERTY OF CLINT BARTON' tattooed on his forehead just from the look Clint gave him.

He didn't move, having stalled entirely just inside the entrance, and Clint stepped right into his space without hesitating, sliding his hand down Phil's shoulder to his hip, then ground against him in a way that Phil was certain should be illegal in at least a few states.

 

Song # 7 - Hello, I Love You (The Doors)

Love at first sight was something that Tony scoffed at, until he skulked into the meeting room behind Director Fury and found himself face-to-face with Captain America himself, the (now) living legend that was Steve Rogers.

Three and a half inches taller than Tony, about twice as wide again, blue eyes, neat blonde hair and an air of innocence that made Tony's mind slide even further into the gutter than anyone who knew him thought that he had the potential for. 

More than anything he wanted to corrupt that innocence, to bite into that perfect flesh, to see Steve debauched, his pupils blown wide as he struggled to catch his breath, grunting an exhale and mouthing Tony's name over and over again. 

But, before that, they had to meet each other.

"Mr Stark."  
"Captain."

 

Song # 8 - Teeth (Lady Gaga)

"I've done this before."  
"You think I haven't?"  
"Liar."

Phil stared into Clint's eyes, searching for the hint of hesitation that he was certain had to be there, the hesitation he hadn't been able to detect in Clint's voice.

Instead he was treated to a grin that recalled a Great White Shark and nothing but a challenge in Barton's expression.

"I've got my own addictions, you know." Clint told him.  
"Yet you choose to expose and exploit mine." Phil ground out, trying not to rub his cheek against the leather that was teasingly held just out of reach at his jawline.  
"Who knew you'd be so kinky." Clint laughed, before giving in to the want bared in Phil's expression and leaned down, shifting the riding crop so that the flat part pressed against the two and a half days of beard on Phil's cheek.  
Phil twisted his face into the touch and his mouth opened slightly, the hint of a gasp escaped and Clint knew that he had him, the tension in Phil's shoulders dropped, the change so minuscule that nobody else would have spotted it.

"Open your mouth."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Domino](https://archiveofourown.org/works/333411) by [annagarny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annagarny/pseuds/annagarny)




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